


Rough around the Edges

by Hannibal_X_Will



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Blood and Gore, Car Accident, Dreams and Nightmares, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Insanity, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Rick has a potty mouth, Rick is at college, Visions/Memories, Walkers, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibal_X_Will/pseuds/Hannibal_X_Will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Grimes is just a normal college student until he accidentally hits a guy with his car and his life is turned upside down. He has never met Daryl Dixon before, yet he swears he knows him from somewhere...then the nightmares about zombies begin and together they must discover the truth behind their 'dreams'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not the best of first meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm back with a brand new Rickyl story, whoop whoop! Strap yourselves in, who knows where this is gonna take us, but I look forward to you all coming on the adventure with me!

“Fuck!” Rick barked as the traffic light up ahead turning red and he was forced to stop behind the yellow line. His car – a 1970 Dodge Challenger that was in need of some serious TLC – growled in frustration, its exhaust shuddering and engine complaining at its rough handling.

 

Drumming his hands agitatedly against the thin steering wheel, Rick glanced at his watch which read 8:55. He was still fifteen minutes away from college and the lecture started at 9am. He glowered up at the pompous red light – he did _not_ have time for this today. A white pickup truck stopped close behind him and blared its horn in impatience.

 

“Well what do you expect me to do, arsehole!” Rick shouted as he glanced up into the rear-view mirror at the driving of truck. The man was making obscene gestured at him and Rick felt his temper flare. He violently wound down the window and stuck his arm out, giving the truck driver the middle finger. The pickup truck roared into life and swung around him, the driver brandishing his fist at Rick as he passed, driving straight through the red light. Unfortunately there was no oncoming traffic.

 

“Fucking arsehole!” Rick swore, revving his engine, almost forgetting himself and going after the bastard. His phone sitting on the passenger seat buzzed and he glanced at the screen as it lit up. ‘ _Shane calling_ ’ it read, a photo of his best mate wearing a ridiculous antler hat and red-faced from too much beer, filling the screen.

 

“Come on!” Rick exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel with his palm. He didn’t bother to answer his phone, he knew Shane was only calling to ask where the hell he was.

 

As if the lights had finally heard him, they changed to green and Rick shoved the gearstick into first and accelerated. Normally he was a very careful driver – despite the connotations of owning a muscle car – and stuck to the speed limits because, after all, he couldn’t risk getting a speeding ticket, but in that moment all that went out the window. He had to get to the lecture, it was _important_ , he couldn’t miss it. 

 

He needed to turn left. The engine roared and at the speed he was doing the corner snuck up on him.

 

“Fuck!” He swung the Challenger wide. There was a dark blur of moment out of the corner of his vision then suddenly a crash as something – no – _someone_ struck the front of the car.

 

Rick slammed on the breaks as if he could still avoid hitting the person. It would have been useless anyway, the breaks – like the rest of the car – had seen better days and he had been going too fast for them to have made a difference even if they had been sparkling new.

 

The guy rolled up the long hood of the Challenger and crashed against the windscreen. There came the cracking of glass and a long hairline crack forked across the glass.

 

Breaks locking, the car screeched to a halt, leaving black tyre marks on the road. Rick was thrown forward but his seatbelt stopped him from colliding with the steering wheel. It jammed and yanked him back so hard he hissed in pain.   

 

The person who he had hit tumbled back down and off the nose of his car, disappearing from sight. Rick gapped at the crack across the windscreen, his chest searing where the seatbelt had bruised him. For a moment he didn’t move, didn’t react, just stared out of the glass which a body had been pinned against a second before.

 

_Wings sown onto the back of a leather jacket_ , somehow his shocked brain registered that out of everything that had just happened. His mind struggled to catch up with his body that was panicking, his heart hammering against his ribs. Arms out, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white, Rick gasped, breathing erratically.

 

“Oh god, oh god oh god!” He snapped out of his trance and fumbled with his seatbelt, struggling to unclip it. Succeeding after a second, he groped for the door handle and opened the car door with a groan, his neck giving a painful throb. Clambering out of the Challenger, one arm wrapped around his aching ribs, Rick stepped around and saw the man he had hit sprawled across the road.

 

“Shit, fuck!”  Rick fell to his knees beside the man and reach out. He froze before actually touching him, his eyes scanning him for injuries. His faded jeans were ripped down their left side, his skin beneath scratched and glistening red, his right arm was at an odd angle and his hands were torn and bleeding from where he had instinctively tried to break his fall. Rick let out a sigh of relief at the lack of an obvious head injury.

 

“Hey…” He began but his voice failed him, what the hell should he say here? _Hey, sorry mate, didn’t see you there, my bad!_ No, that wasn’t right.

 

“Can you hear me?”

 

The man groaned and shifted. Rick leaned over him, putting a light hand on his shoulder, “Don’t try to move, you’ve been hit by a car.”

 

“No shit!” The guy cursed, opening his eyes and blearily glowering up at Rick.

 

As if there was an elastic band tied between his ribs, something in Rick’s chest gave a pang. The guy’s eyes were blue but paler than his own with grey flecks…they were eerily familiar. Heat rose up Rick’s neck and, trying not to look like a creep, he blinked and stammered, “A-are you alright?”

 

“I can’t feel my legs,” the guy said, looking down at them with horror sliding over his features.

 

“What? Fuck!” Rick jumped to his feet but the guy grabbed hold of his trouser leg.

 

“Calm down, kid, I’m just messing with ya.”

 

Rick gapped down at the stranger, “Y-you –“

 

The guy let out a small chuckle and heaved himself up into a sitting position, wincing as he held his right arm against his chest. “I think my arm might be busted though.”

 

For a second Rick couldn’t decide what to do, he just stared at the man he had hit with his car. He wasn’t strikingly good-looking, yet his strong jaw, small nose and high cheekbones all came together to create a face Rick found pleasantly appealing. His hair was dark brown and left to its own devices, in need of a trim, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin that told Rick the guy hadn’t shaved in the past day or two. He wore faded blue jeans, a simple khaki green shirt beneath his dark leather jacket and black biker boots. Though he couldn’t see them at that moment, Rick thought again of the angel wings sown onto the back of the guy’s jacket. He wanted to ask about them but held back.

 

_Play it cool, Rick._

 

“Hey, kid, did you hit your head or something?”

 

Rick jumped and felt his cheeks burn red. He couldn’t be sure if the guy was teasing him or was genuinely concerned.

 

“Stop calling me ‘kid’, I’m not that much younger than you!” Rick said defensively, feeling flustered. The guy’s grey-blue eyes continued to look up at him with mild amusement, Rick felt his frustration stutter.

 

Snorting, the guy tugged up his left jean leg to examine the injury. He whistled and Rick winced at the sight of the deep graze.

 

“I should get you to a hospital, you probably need stitches and your arm –“

 

“- I’m fine,” the guy interrupted, sounding serious for the first time, given the circumstances, “I don’t need a hospital.”

 

“What? Yeah, you do. I hit you with me car! I need to call this in.”

 

“ _’Call this in’_ , what are you a cop?” the guy joked, heaving himself to his feet awkwardly, not putting much weight on his injured leg.

 

“Someday hopefully,” Rick said more to himself than the stranger.

 

The guy swayed and Rick almost reach out to steady him but he stopped halfway, his outstretched hand hovered awkwardly between them. Giving him a weird look, the guy muttered, “Sorry about your windscreen.”

 

Stunned, Rick glanced over his shoulder at his car. Why was the guy being so calm? He had almost run him over for Christ sake!

 

“I’ll pay for the repairs.”

 

“What?” Rick opened and closed his mouth like a fish, “You do realise I was the one to hit you, right?”

 

The guy laughed and a strange warming sensation spread through Rick’s stomach.

 

“It was my fault, I stepped into the road without looking –“

 

“- But I was speeding, it was my fault, I –“

 

“- What’s your name?”

 

Rick stared at the guy, unable to make sense of how he was acting. “I – it’s Rick, Rick Grimes.”

 

The guy held out his left hand to him and Rick shook it, unable to think of anything else to do. “I’m Daryl Dixon.”

 

Daryl’s hand was large, his skin warm and fingertips rough, Rick felt the band in his chest tighten once more and his mouth went dry. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity. It crashed over him like a wave. It felt like he knew the guy…somehow. And just like that the sensation passed and Rick was felt feeling cold, kind of empty and slightly sad.

 

“I don’t…” he trailed off, he wondered suddenly if this was all a dream, that at any moment he would wake up back in his room in bed. Daryl withdrew his hand and Rick let his arm fall down to his side, his palm tingling slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

 

From behind him through the open car door he heard his mobile ringing again and he glanced quickly at his watch, it was 9:15.

 

“Fuck,” he exhaled, wracking his fingers through his wavy dark hair.

 

“You clearly have somewhere you need to be,” the guy – Daryl – observed with a tilt of his head and a twitch of his lips.

 

“I – yeah – but your arm, you need a doctor, get in, I’ll drive you.”

 

Daryl shook his head, “No, I said no hospital. I don’t have insurance and besides, I’m fine, believe me I’ve had worse.”  

 

Rick was inclined to believe him but frustration still rose up inside of him as he exclaimed, “I can’t just drive off!”

 

“Yeah, you can.”

 

“No, I –“ Rick broke off and scowled at Daryl, “you’re a stubborn bastard aren’t you.”

 

Daryl laughed hard at that, his cheeks tinting slightly red. Rick wanted to touch them and at the same time already knew how they would feel.

 

“I’ve been told, yeah,” Daryl said, continuing to chuckle softly, “you’re not gonna let me pay for your windscreen are ya?”

 

Rick crossed his arms defensively over his chest, “Not if you’re not gonna let me take you to the hospital.”

 

“Well then,” Daryl took a step back and up onto the curb, “that’s that. I’ll see ya around, Rick Grimes.”

 

_Yeah_ , Rick thought to himself incredulously as Daryl limp slowly away down the street, _I have to be dreaming_. He pinched the back of his hand but the sharp stab of pain didn’t snap him awake. Blinking in confusion, he stared after Daryl’s retreating back, watching the angel wings gradually shrink then he turned a corner and vanished.

 

Inside his car his mobile was ringing for a third time.

 

“Fuck it!” Rick snarled, turning on his heel and returning to the Challenger. He slammed the door shut and glowered at the crack across the windscreen. _How much would it cost for a new one?_ Maybe he should have taken Daryl up on his offer after all…


	2. A cup of coffee with your insanity

Rick thought his days couldn’t possible get any worse, but it turned out he was wrong. First, he couldn’t find a car park space and ended up just abandoning the Challenger on some grass where he was sure he would return to find a ticket stuck under his windscreen wiper. Second, he burst into the wrong lecture hall. Or, rather, his class had been moved to a different room and because he had been late he hadn’t received the message. He had burst into the room and almost taken a seat before he actually looked at the board and saw mathematical symbols and numbers scrawled across it.

 

“Fuck!” He had exclaimed, scanning the room of unfamiliar faces and blushing bright red when the lecturer at the front had glowered at him and demanded, “Can I help you?” Without answering Rick had fled the room.

 

It was now 9:40am and Rick was beginning to lose hope; he was half contemplating giving up and simply going to get some breakfast and a strong cup of coffee. What made his stress levels even higher was the worry niggling at the back of his mind. How was he going to afford a new windscreen for his car? He could barely afford the rent on his shitty one-bed apartment! But, more importantly, what had happened to the guy he had hit? The sexy guy who totally had had the bad-boy biker vibe which was preciously Rick’s type…he hoped he was alright.

 

He ended up finding his class by complete accident. He had been aimlessly wandered the corridors and happened to glance into a classroom where he had spotted a couple of familiar faces. He sighed with relief and reached for the door handle. The lecture was almost over, the lecturer - Dr Hershel Greene - was concluding his argument and barely noticed the door open and Rick slip inside.

 

Rick took the nearest empty seat and settled into it as quietly and discreetly as he could. The moment he sat his body went numb and he slouched back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Adrenaline was still rushing through his body and the shock and horror over hitting that guy returned with a vengeance. He had almost _killed_ someone, well not really, but he _could_ have. He found it difficult to kill a spider without feeling guilty afterwards let alone another human being!

 

The reality of what could have happened because of his stupidity – his reckless driving – suddenly came crashing down on him. Leaning forwards, his empty stomach giving a heave, Rick balanced his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. Daryl’s face blazed against the lids of his eyes like a bright light. The feeling that he had met him before was suddenly overpowering and his throat contracted, making it difficult to breathe.  

 

“Hey,” hissed a quiet but urgent voice. Rick peeked between his fingers and saw the guy sitting in front of him had turned round.

 

“Shane,” Rick breathed, feeling a small slither of relief at the sight of his friend, the tightness around his throat loosened somewhat.   

 

“Where the hell were you man? I’ve been trying to ring you but you weren’t picking up!” Shane kept his voice low but his eyes were worried as he took in Rick’s pale face and sweaty forehead, “Are you alright? You look sick.”

 

“No, I – I’m not sick,” Rick stammered. Daryl’s bloody leg and twisted arm flashed through his mind and his stomach knotted itself painfully. He winced, dropping his hands from his face, avoiding eye contact with the girl sitting on his left who was throwing him a suspicious glare.

 

“Seriously, man,” Shane muttered, eyes narrowing, “You look like shit.”    

 

Before Rick could say anything in response, Dr Greene clapped his hands together loudly as he always did at the end of his lecture and said, “That’s all for this morning, thank you!”

 

There was the sudden burst of movement as every student began to stuff their notepads, laptops and pens back into their bags and stood up from their chairs, pulling on jackets and chatting animatedly.

 

“I missed it all anyway…” Rick whispered to himself as he struggled to his feet, his legs feeling unable to support his full weight. Shane appeared at his side, putting a large hand on his shoulder and guiding him through the throng out of the classroom. Rick slipped to one side and leant heavily against the wall, inhaling deeply and holding his breath as his heart fluttered anxiously in his chest.

 

“Rick, I think you need to go to the nurse or something,” Shane said worriedly, standing in front of him, his bulk angling the rush of people away from pressing in on Rick.

 

“I’m not sick,” Rick repeatedly weakly.

 

Shane put his hand on the wall close to Rick’s head, shifting his body slightly to one side so he was hiding him from view from the other students coming up behind them.

 

“Well you’re definitely not well,” he growled, his voice near to Rick’s ear, “come on, mate, talk to me. What happened? What is it?”

 

Rick glanced around the many faces passing them and he could have sworn he saw Daryl momentarily in the crowd but then he blinked and he was gone. A chill slipped down his spine.

 

“Not here,” he croaked to Shane, pushing himself off the wall. Shane moved with him and Rick found himself grateful that his friend knew him well enough to not press for answers there and then. They had grown up together, lived on the same street, gone to the same schools and now attended the same college studying the same degree with the same ultimate career goal – police officer. Sometimes they didn’t even need words to understand each other. Rick couldn’t imagine a world where things could be any different. 

 

Side by side, they followed the tail-end of their classmates down the corridor, down three flights of stairs, then outside into one of three large squares that made up the bulk of the college campus. There was a small well-kept raised flower bed in the middle of the square and Rick made a beeline for the raised concrete which students used as a place to sit. His knees almost buckled as he reached it and he quickly hitched himself up, hoping Shane hadn’t noticed. But one glance at his friend’s serious face told him he had.

 

“Wait here,” Shane instructed firmly. Rick nodded and watched as Shane moved quickly away towards one of several small shops that sold food and drink.

 

Closing his eyes, Rick rubbed his forehead hard and tried to get a hold of himself. He needed to calm down, he felt like he was having a minor panic attack – he could well be for all he knew.

 

Was he being stupid? Yes, he had hit someone, but Daryl had insisted he was fine, he had refused point-blank Rick’s offers to drive him to a hospital. It wasn’t like he could forcibly take him to a hospital after all, he didn’t know him from Adam, yet…he felt like he _did_. Though he was sure he had never seen Daryl before in his life there was something so familiar about him that made his heart leap and his palms grow sweaty.

 

It was just his imagination, maybe he had hit his head after all, but he swore he _knew_ Daryl somehow and the fact that he had hit him with his car - _hurt him_ \- was tearing him up inside. It was like he had hurt a dear friend or family member not a total stranger. He shouldn’t _care_ this much about someone he had never met before, he shouldn’t be so guilt-ridden and horrified, but he was.  

 

“Here, drink this.”

 

Rick opened his eyes and his vision focused on a paper cup before held close to his face.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he took the hot drink from Shane’s hand. He took a sip and winced as the coffee singed the tip of his tongue.

 

Shane watched him, eyes uncertain and fingers drumming a meaningless rhythm on the plastic top of his own coffee cup. He didn’t ask, he waited for Rick to tell him.

 

“I hit someone…” Rick said after a minute of awkward silence between the two of them.

 

“With your fist?”

 

Rick shot Shane an exasperated look, “No, Shane, not with my fist, with my _car_.”

 

Shane’s eyes widened, almost comically and if the circumstances had been different Rick would have laughed.

 

“What?” Shane gasped, almost breaking his paper cup he squeezed it so hard, “How? When?”

 

The hand holding his coffee shaking, Rick lifted the cup to his mouth and took another sip before answered, “A-about an hour ago. I was late and wasn’t paying attention. I turned a corner, I was going too fast, and this guy just appeared out of nowhere and I…”

 

“You ran over someone! Shit, Rick, what did you do? Did you call an ambulance, the cops?”

 

Rick shook his head, panic clawing at his insides, “N-no, the guy told me not to. I stopped, obviously, my windscreen is busted. The guy’s leg was pretty messed up and his arm may have been broken…I tried to take him to a hospital or something but he said he didn’t need it.”

 

“You just ran this guy over! He could have a serious head injury – he could have said anything! He needs to go to a hospital! Fuck, Rick!”

 

“I know, Shane, don’t you think I know that?” Rick snapped back, anger momentarily overcoming his fear that his inaction may cost Daryl his life. What if Shane was right and he had brain damage? Or internal bleeding or any other number of traumas? If he died it was Rick’s fault, he would be responsible - for both hitting him and not making sure he saw a doctor.

 

“I’m sorry, Rick, sorry, mate,” Shane said, shuffling closer and putting a hand on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean to get pissed, it’s just –“

 

“- If something happens to him than I can kiss goodbye to ever becoming a cop.”

 

The moment the words left Rick’s mouth he registered them for the first time.

 

“Shit!” He hastily put down his coffee to bury his face into his hands, pressing the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. He hadn’t even _thought_ of that side of things! What the hell had he been thinking letting Daryl walk away from the scene like that?

 

“You…That isn’t the reason you’re such a wreck over the accident is it?” Shane muttered, perching on the concrete next to Rick, setting down his drink too. “Rick? Tell me the truth, man.”

 

Rick shook his head but he felt Shane’s strong hands wrap around his wrists and tug his arms down. He blinked hard, wishing he could somehow wake up, that this whole day had just been a bad dream.

 

“I – I can’t say,” he whispered. Daryl’s face was burning before his eyes again and his fingertips were tingling with a memory of tracing the angel wings sown onto the back of his leather jacket – only it _couldn’t_ be a memory because he had never done that, yet that is what it felt like.   

 

“Can’t,” growled Shane, eyes boring into the side of Rick’s head, “or won’t?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Rick swallowed, he looked down at the floor, focusing on an old, dried-up piece of gum stuck to the concrete. In a small voice he croaked, “I-it doesn’t make any sense. You’ll think I’m crazy or something.”

 

“Rick,” Shane began in a voice so serious Rick had only ever heard it a handful of times before in his life, “You’re my best mate, my oldest friend, hell you’re basically my brother! I swear I won’t think you’re crazy.” 

 

Unable to help himself, Rick glanced sideways at Shane and saw the determination on his features. There was no way out of it now, he could try lying but Shane knew him too well and would see through any lie as quick as breathing, besides lying would only result in pissing his friend off.

 

“A-alright,” Rick said, shifting on the hard surface, “The guy I hit – his name was Daryl – I…felt like I knew him, only I couldn’t possible because I have never met him before…Crazy sounding, I told you, but I could of sworn I _know_ him.”

 

It wasn’t even a vague sense of familiarity. It was fiercely strong, a connection that brought a surreal and confused mix of emotions and sensations flooding through Rick the more he thought about it. He could taste cigarette smoke on his tongue even though he had never smoked in his life, hear the rumble of a motorbike engine, smell a mixture of leather, pine needles, and sweat, see a body that was not his own beneath his hands that was peppered with scars, feel the tight cord of some kind of string…maybe the string of a guitar, no, something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on...

 

He _knew_ Daryl Dixon, knew him as deeply as he knew himself. How was that possible? Easy, it wasn’t, which meant that he, Rick Grimes, was going insane.

 

“Rick,” Shane said in a slow, surprisingly steady voice, “Listen to me carefully. I want you to give me your car keys.”

 

He held his hand out, waiting. Rick rummaged in his pocket and pulled his keys out, dropping them onto Shane’s open palm.

 

“Good. Now, I want you to tell me where you left your car. I’m gonna drive you to your place and you’re gonna go to bed, get some sleep. I’m gonna stay till you wake up.”

 

“I – I don’t see how that’s gonna help –“

 

“- You will feel better once you’ve got some sleep. I know you’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately, you just need some rest.”

 

“Shane,” Rick said in a broken voice, “Tell me you believe me about…about _knowing him_.” It was childish of him to demand such a thing of his friend but he couldn’t help it, he needed to hear it, even if it was only said for his own peace of mind.

 

Looking hard into his eyes, Shane sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, maybe. You’re not making a hell of a lot of sense right now, which is why you need to go home and sleep.”

 

Rick wanted to shout that he didn’t need sleep, that what he needed was to go and find Daryl and get to the bottom of how he knew him, but he found he couldn’t open his mouth. Shane was looking at him so imploringly, begging him to just trust to him and do what he said, that Rick found he didn’t have a choice but to listen to his friend.

 

Besides, what did he have to lose really? His insanity would still be waiting for him when he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you're enjoying this story so far :)


	3. Nightmares...not what the doctor ordered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back! I'm glad you guys seemed to like Rick and Shane's friendship, more of it in this part. Onwards to chapter 3, enjoy!

The blood was pounding so profoundly in Rick’s ears that he was deaf to everything else. He was sprinting through trees, a thick blanket of leaves under his feet and naked, gnarled branches snatching at his clothes. A rucksack knocked between his shoulder blades and he held a gun in his hand and at his hip was sheaved a large knife.

 

 _Run, hurry!_ Everything else was irrelevant, all he knew was that he couldn’t stop. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins in torrents, his lungs burned as he panted, but he couldn’t slow down. He had to keep going. _Run, run!_   

 

There were things moving amongst the trees all around him - slow, lumper figures. The stench of death – rotting flesh, blood and entrails – hung in the air like an invisible smog. It made him choke when he inhaled, his stomach churned and heave. He was running between them – the _walkers_. He both didn’t know what they were yet, on a deeper level, it felt almost hardwired into his bones that they were dangerous. _Mustn’t let them bite you, if you’re bit, you turn, if you die, you turn._  

 

There was something else. _Run, hurry, run!_ He wasn’t just running from the walkers, he was running to something – _no_ – someone. _He had to find him, he was in danger, the plan had gone wrong._ Him – who?

 

The trees suddenly fell away and Rick crashed out of the hedgerow and onto a road. He paused, wheezing and clutching his side where an agonising stitch was digging in between his ribs. His hand holding the gun shook. He had never fired a gun before, why did he have one? Why did it feel so natural to have it in his hand?

 

Moans and growls came from behind him and he took off without a backwards glance. The walkers weren’t his main concern, he had to find _him_. He ran up the road, scattering stray leaves as he pounded forwards. His shoes drummed against the tarmac and the pain in his side increased. Clenching his teeth together, he didn’t stop.

 

The road forked left and there, just up ahead, lay the twisted form of a bike. The truck it had crashed into had its doors flung open and figures were hunched around the bonnet. Loud, harsh voices filled the air but they didn’t mask the yell that came from the guy they had pinned to the bumper of the truck.

 

Rick hurtled towards the truck and the men, raising his gun. Rage like he had never felt before was coursing through his body. White hot rage that desired nothing other than vengeance, to inflict pain and death upon those that were harming _him_. _How dare they hurt him! He would kill them!_

 

Firing twice, he took out two of the four guys, their bodies collapsing in heaps onto the road. Rick felt nothing at their deaths, killing was second nature to him in this world. The other two whirled around, drawing their own guns. They took a step away from their victim – a guy wearing a leather jacket with wings sown onto the back – who slid down and flattened himself to the ground.

 

Rick skirted around them and dived behind the truck, narrowly avoiding the bullets zipping free passed his head. He waiting, counting calmly in his head, for the men to empty their clips. The rain of bullets ceased and they swore as they fumbled to reload.

 

Seizing the moment, Rick jumped up, aimed and pulled his trigger. He dropped one of them as easy as if he was shooting cans off a fence. The last guy ducked down behind the truck and Rick cautiously began advancing round the vehicle. The blood had returned, pounding against his ear drums, his whole body hummed with the rhythm of it.

 

“Stop!” Shouted the man and as he remerged, dragging Daryl up with him, a thick arm around his throat. “Drop your gun! Or I’ll shoot him! I swear to God I will!”

 

Daryl’s hair was plastered to his face with blood and his clothes were ripped from where he had come off his bike. Fury curled Rick’s finger over the trigger, he didn’t lower the gun.

 

“Do it now!” The guy shouted, pressing the barrel of his own gun against Daryl’s head.

 

Rick saw red and he took a step forwards. He saw the whites of the guy’s eyes a split second before he pulled the trigger of the gun held to Daryl’s skull.

 

_“No!”_

 

Blood, so much _blood_!

 

“Rick, wake up!”

 

Daryl’s lifeless body falling to the ground, blood pooling around the gaping hole where his temple had been moments ago.

 

 _Red_ , everything was red, the world was swimming in it and he was falling into it, he was drowning.

 

“Rick!” Someone slapped him across the face and his eyes snapped opened. Lurching away from the person holding his shoulders, Rick fell out of bed with a hard thump. He twisted around and swore as he failed to stand, his legs tangled in bedsheets.

 

“Fuck!” he cried, collapsing back against the wall, gasping for air. His head felt like it had been split in two and he groaned, hunching in on himself and burying his face in his hands. Everything hurt, aching with the vivid memory of the dream. _A dream, just a dream,_ but it had felt so real. He could remember every detail, it was so fresh, he felt as if he could reach out and touch it.  

 

“Rick, buddy?” Shane’s wary voice caught his attention and Rick looked up, his confused brain registering for the first time the stinging pain across his right cheek.

 

“Y-you slapped me,” he said dumbfounded, touching his cheek with trembling fingers.

 

Shane gaped at him incredulously, “Really? That’s the first thing you say to me? Jesus Christ, Rick, you scared the shit out of me. You were –“

 

“- What? I was what?”

 

“Fucking screaming in your sleep, man, I couldn’t snap you out of it. You were thrashing about and yelling, I thought you were gonna hurt yourself!”

 

Groaning again, Rick pushed himself up using the wall as leverage and kicked the bedsheets off of his legs so he was free. He stepped to his bed and sank down unsteadily onto the mattress, grimacing as he felt his t-shirt stick to his back with sweat.

 

“That must have been some fucking nightmare,” Shane prodded gently, perching next to Rick, his eyes worriedly taking in Rick’s pale and haggard face.

 

“Yeah,” Rick muttered, closing his eyes and seeing the guy pull the trigger again, Daryl’s blood spraying the air. He opened his eyes and swallowed thickly, “Yeah, it was.”

 

Shane rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Rick felt guilty and said quickly, “I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

 

Lowering his arm, Shane muttered, “Yeah, well…don’t make a habit out of it, my poor heart can’t take it.”

 

Rick snorted, leaning over and bumping his shoulder against his friend’s much broader one, saying as light-heartedly as he could, “I’ll try.”

 

An hour later, the two sat on Rick’s secondhand sofa watching a game of football on the TV with two large pizzas on the table before them and a six-pack of beer.

 

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Shane said round a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. Rick forced himself to smile and take a sip from the neck of his beer. Though the food, drink and game were helping distract him from reliving the nightmare, Rick found he couldn’t do anything about the memory of hitting Daryl with his car.

_“_

_I hope he’s alright.”_

 

“What? Who?” Shane asked.

 

Rick jumped, not realising he had spoken his thoughts aloud. He felt a blush rise up his neck and he save himself a moment from answering by take an unnecessarily large bite of pizza.

 

“The guy I hit,” he admitted, swallowing and returning his half-eaten slice to the box on the table.

 

“He got up and walked away, right? Then I think you’re in the clear, Rick.”

 

Rick supressed a sigh. He wanted to tell Shane that that wasn’t why he was worried, that he was worried because he knew Daryl from somewhere and that he cared about him, and now that he was having weird-ass nightmares about him getting shot and zombies running through woods…

 

“You remember what you told me earlier back on campus?”

 

Rick felt his stomach flip at the question but he nodded, not needing to ask which part Shane was specifically referring to.

 

“Do you still feel like that? That you knew the guy from somewhere?”

 

“No…” Rick lied, immediately feeling shame for lying to his best friend but he knew it was for the best, he needed to work this out on his own first, “No, I don’t. I don’t know, I guess it must have been the shock or something.”

 

Shane eyed him for a second, taking a large swig from his beer. The hairs across the back of Rick’s neck prickled, he was sure Shane saw right through his lie.

 

“Yeah, fucking weird that. I guess you’re right, probably just the shock,” Shane said, turning his attention back to the TV and Rick let out his breath. Shane had either believed his lie or had chosen to ignore it, either way it got Rick out of talking about it more with his friend for the time being.  

 

They continued to eat their pizza and watch the remainder of the game. By halftime it was dark outside and Rick got up and drew the blinds and switched on a lamp. Shane was on to his fourth beer whilst he was still sipping his first, something telling him alcohol and visions didn’t make a very smart mix. Despite having slept for almost four hours before the nightmare incident, Rick felt surprisingly drained. His body felt heavy and with his stomach full of pizza, he found his eye lids growing heavy in the closing ten minutes of the match.

 

“Fucking assholes!” Shane exclaimed as the final whistle was blown, declaring his team the losers. Rick forced himself to sit up straight and take the almost-empty bottle from Shane’s hand before he could toss it at the TV – something that had happened more times than Rick cared to count. 

 

A bike rumbled passed outside and Rick felt his heart lurch. He made for the kitchen before Shane noticed anything was wrong and leaned against the fridge, breathing deeply through his nose and closing his eyes. _What the hell was happening to him?_

 

A memory, so vivid and crisp, overcame him where he stood…He was sitting on the back of a bike, pressed against the guy driving, his arms looped tight around his waist. He could feel the vibration of the engine, smell the leather of the guy’s jacket.

 

Rick clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms. The memory burst like a bubble and he blinked hard, his vision focusing to see Shane standing in the doorway, watching him anxiously.

 

“I’m fine,” Rick said before his friend could ask.

 

“Like hell you are,” Shane growled, though he didn’t seem about to push the matter any further tonight.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here tonight?” Shane tried to insist a few minutes later as Rick urged him to go back to his own place. “I can sleep on the couch?”

 

“Yeah, Shane, I’m sure. Look, I’m just really tired, a good night’s rest and I’ll be fine tomorrow, I swear!”   

 

Shane didn’t look convinced but he stuffed his feet into his converses and pulled on his jacket anyway, sensing there was no point in arguing further.

 

“Call me if anything… _weird_ happens.”

 

“Like what?” Rick said, opening the front door for his friend.

 

Shane shrugged his large shoulders, “I don’t know, whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rick.”

 

“Yeah, bye, Shane.”

 

The moment he closed the door behind his friend, Rick let out a huge sigh and rested his head against the wood. A ghost pair of hands slipped onto his hips and warm breath tickled his ear as a deep, familiar voice whispered, _“Come to bed.”_

 

Rick groaned and turned around, staring around his empty living room.

 

“I’m fucking going insane,” he muttered aloud, wracking his fingers through his messy dark hair.

 

He was just about to head to the bathroom for a shower when the doorbell rang. He froze, looking over his shoulder at the front door. Maybe it was just Shane insisting he had to stay tonight after all? Yet Rick knew it wasn’t, Shane never rang the doorbell, he just knocked then tried the handle, letting himself in if the door was unlocked. Rick continued to stare at the closed door as if, if he did so for long enough, he would see through it like an x-ray. Whoever it was knocked again, louder this time, making him jump.

 

“Fucking coward, Grimes,” he growled angrily at himself, squaring his shoulders and forcing his shaking hand to reach out and take hold of the doorknob. He was half expecting flashing blue lights to greet him, a police officer saying his name, _hell_ at that moment he wouldn’t be surprised to see doctors in long white coats holding a straitjacket ready to take him away.

 

What he hadn’t been expecting was Daryl Dixon. He was standing as plain as day on his doorstep, looking as shit as Rick felt.

 

“ _Who_ the fuck are you?” Daryl demanded the second their eyes locked.

 

“I – what?” Rick stammered, totally thrown by the guy’s appearance at his home.

 

“Who… _the fuck_ …are you?” Daryl repeated slowly but still as angrily, his voice shaking just a tiny amount at the end, telling Rick he was just as freaked out as he was.

 

“You feel it too!” He gasped, eyes going wide and a strange sense of overwhelming relief coming over him. Maybe he wasn’t going insane after all if Daryl felt _it_ too, but what the hell _was_ going on then?

 

“I know you - I _remember_ you – but we’ve never met before,” Daryl breathed.

 

“Yes, I-” Rick tried to begin once more but Daryl cut him off.

 

“-What the fuck!”

 

Rick sighed and stepped to one side, holding the door open wide, “Do you want to come in?”

 

Daryl glowered at him for a long moment, as if all this was his fault somehow, before he muttered darkly, “I don’t think I have much of a fucking choice.” And stepped inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A full chapter of Rick and Daryl next time, I promise! XD
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments below <3


	4. Reality is overrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A full chapter of Rick and Daryl, as promised ;) enjoy!

Staring at Daryl now as he perched on the edge of his sofa, rubbing his arm which had been twisted at an odd angle the last time he had seen it, Rick found it easy to see why he had fallen in love with him.

 

_Wait…what?_

 

Rick blinked, a fierce blush spreading up his neck.

 

Even though he looked rough as hell, his skin pale, jaw bruised, hands a mess of grazes from the accident, Rick couldn’t deny that Daryl was gorgeous. Maybe not to a lot of people, but to Rick he was something special. His whole body seemed to emit a kind of energy - enticing, exhilarating and addictive – a sense of rebellious uncertainty, the promise of adventure, of a whirlwind of excitement and passion. Or maybe Rick was just remembering what Daryl used to make him feel, why had had loved him _before_ …

 

What _was_ going on? The things he were feeling weren’t natural, they _couldn’t_ be real, it was impossible. Yet he felt them, he felt it all as much as he felt the carpet beneath his feet or tasted the leftover tang of pizza in his mouth. And Daryl was _here_ , he had found him, he felt it too.

 

“The guy who left here,” Daryl interrupted Rick’s spiralling train of thought, “Is he your boyfriend or something?”

 

“What?” Rick frowned, taking a step towards the sofa, “Shane? No, no he’s my best mate.”

 

Something flickered across Daryl’s eyes so swift Rick wasn’t sure what it had been, yet the corner of Daryl’s mouth softened slightly which he knew was a sign he was relieved. But _how_ did he know that?

 

Rick’s brain was struggling to catch up with reality but he was aware enough to realise, “You were watching my apartment.”

 

Daryl looked sheepish for the first time and he rubbed his right arm, answering in a low voice, “Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like anyone else finding out that I’m fucking losing my shit.”

 

Sinking down on the opposite end of the sofa, Rick eyed Daryl’s right arm which he was continuing to rub. “Is it broken?”

 

Stiffening, Daryl took his hand off his arm, “No. My shoulder was dislocated, Merle popped it back in place for me and bound up my leg. Told you I didn’t need no stupid hospital.”

 

_Merle_ …

 

The name brought a thunder storm of memories crashing down upon his shoulders. Rick clamped his eyes shut and breathed hard. He was standing on a roof overlooking a city, the tension in the air crackling like lightning, raised voices pressing in against his eardrums. The memory lurched forwards and a man’s face filled his head - a hard, grizzled face with a sneering grin and wild eyes. He knew the man to be Merle – Daryl’s older brother – but Daryl wasn’t among them on the roof, Rick knew them all but at that moment couldn’t see their faces. His jaw was throbbing, as if he had taken a heavy punch. The others were huddled on the ground, intimidated and frightened. Suddenly he was moving, punching Merle as hard as he could, knocking the larger man down. He felt the cold weight of the handcuffs in his hand, heard the click of them as he cuffed Merle’s wrist to a pipe –

 

“–Hey!”

 

Rick jerked back, his eyes flying open and he stared at Daryl who was leaning in close to him, face filled with concern – far more concern than was expected from a total stranger.

 

“The memories…” Rick whispered, feeling a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck, “the feelings…you have them too. Daryl, _please_ tell me you have them too?” He must have moved in as well for suddenly their faces were dangerously close, he felt Daryl’s breath on his lips, saw the flecks of grey mingling with the blue of his irises.

 

Daryl lurched to his feet and Rick recoiled as if he had been punched. His heart was hammering so hard against his chest he feared it would impale itself on a rib. The taste of cigarettes was back on his tongue and his fingertips were tingling again – _angel wings_. 

 

Daryl moved quickly away, around the low table, as if he was making for the front door.

 

“No, please!” Rick blurted, jumping to his feet, “Don’t leave.”

 

Daryl stopped, his shoulders were hunched and his fists shook by his sides.

 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he growled, not turning back to face Rick, “Just…I need some space for a moment.”

 

Rick moved cautiously towards Daryl, unable to stop himself. He just wanted – _needed_ – to be close to him. He was stilling wearing the leather jacket, Rick gazed at it with eyes hazy with emotions he had not known till today, or rather emotions he had not _remembered_ till today. Lifting his hand, he glanced up at the back of Daryl’s head. The older man knew he was right behind him but he didn’t move or speak, Rick didn’t even think he was breathing.

 

_Angel wings._ The two words pulsed through Rick on his bloodstream and he returned his gaze to the wings sown onto the back of Daryl’s jacket. His raised hand was shaking, his fingertips tingling so badly he was worried for a split second they were too numb to feel anything.

 

Rick touched his fingers to the soft leather, it was warmer than he had expected, then slowly slide them over the edge of one embroidered wing. He could feel Daryl trembling, his body wound so tight, every muscle vibrating as they ached for release. Rick traced the wings, the one on the right then the one on the left. The tingling in his fingertips had vanished at the first brush of contact.

 

He shifted his body forwards, standing as close to Daryl as was possible without their bodies actually _touching_. Oh how he wanted them to though, he wanted to meld himself to the other man’s back, wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzle his face against the back of his ear to feel both the warmth of his skin and the tickle of his hair.

 

Rick’s mouth was dry but his body hummed. His hand slipped lower down Daryl’s back, touching the very tip of the wings, following the slope of the man’s spine. Rick’s hand settled on the slight hollow in the small of his back, his hand fitting so perfectly, the placement feeling so familiar and nature he was certain he had done it a thousand times before. He heard Daryl inhale sharply and the trembling of his body stopped.

 

That was the only warning Rick received.

 

The next thing he knew was Daryl had whipped around and seized him by the throat, crowding him backwards so fast Rick barely avoided tripping over his own feet, and slammed him against the wall. A picture on the wall to his right shook on its nail. Daryl’s grip around his throat was as hard as iron but he wasn’t squeezing, wasn’t locking off his air supply, he just held Rick in place. Breathing hard, eyes dark and tongue slipping out of his mouth to wet his lips, Daryl struggled to get a hold of himself. Rick watched, torn between being frightened and incredible aroused, not daring to move an inch either way.

 

“Y-you have to stop that,” Daryl breathed, sounding as if each word was a battle to pronounce, “Stop the touching, I can’t – the memories…”

 

“Alright,” Rick said quickly, swallowing anxiously, “I’m sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobbed against Daryl’s hand still against his throat.

 

Daryl leaned in close, breathing in deeply as if he was trying to inhale Rick.

 

“All I can think of is ripping off your clothes and taking you right here and now against this wall,” Daryl spoke in a voice as husky and dark as sin.

 

If that was what was about to happen than Rick had no complaints.    

 

Daryl let go of his neck and took three steps back, rubbing an unsteady hand down his face.

 

“I…why do you make me feel like that? I’ve never met you before, but I know what your body looks like beneath your clothes, what parts of you to touch to make you scream, what you taste like, what you sound like when you –“ Daryl broke off sharply.    

 

Rick stayed where he was against the wall, not trusting himself to move any closer towards Daryl at that moment.

 

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice coming out in little more than a whisper, “but I feel it too, I remember you, everything about you. I don’t understand, such things aren’t possible.”

 

Daryl looked at Rick properly, straight in the eye, and Rick felt something inside of him slide into place.

 

“Reality is overrated anyway.”

 

Rick smiled at Daryl’s words, warmth spreading through his chest. “What do we do now?”

 

“Hell if I know,” Daryl muttered.

 

There was a long pause, both of them unsure of what to say or do. They had accept it on some level just then, the thing between them, but now what should they do with it? Half of them were still strangers after all, he half that was holding them back and screaming insanity.

 

“We should get to know each other,” Rick suggested, feeling dumb the moment the words left his mouth. 

 

Daryl gave an amused snort, he raised his eyebrows at Rick, “Really?”

 

Blushing, Rick crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, really, I don’t know anything about you – I mean the _you_ now – fuck that sounds so insane.”

 

“No, you’re right,” Daryl said. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone, “Give me your number.”

 

Rick told him, unable to keep the disbelieving smile off his face, feeling they were far beyond simply exchanging phone numbers.

 

“Can we meet tomorrow?” he asked, not wanting to be separated from Daryl any longer than he had to be, but it was clear that Daryl was uncomfortable and itchy to leave.

 

“Sure,” Daryl muttered, returning his phone to his pocket, “I’ll text you.”

 

“OK.”

 

There was another awkward pause.

 

“I’m gonna go…” Daryl moved towards the door and Rick hurried passed him to open it for him.

 

“See you tomorrow,” he said as Daryl hovered on the threshold, glancing sideways at him. Rick wanted to lean in and kiss him but he could still feel the presence of Daryl’s hand around his throat so he held back.

 

“Bye, Rick.”

 

The moment he closed the door behind Daryl, Rick let out a strange noise halfway between a laugh and a groan and stumbled to the sofa. He sat down just as his shaky legs gave way and he sprawled over the cushions. He stared up at the ceiling, the light burning a blazing sphere into his retinas.

 

His phone on the table buzzed across the smooth surface and he reached for it. The number was unknown but he immediate knew it was Daryl without reading the message. Happiness spread throughout his body and he laughed aloud as he read:

 

_Yr car looks like shit. U sure u don’t want me to pay 4 a new windshield?_

 

If this was what insanity felt like then Rick supposed he could learn to live with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people are sticking with me with this fic, I have the general arc of it figured out in my head now and you're not gonna want to miss it ;)
> 
> Please let me know how you're finding it so far in a comment below <3


	5. I was born ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a comment on the last chapter <3 you're words mean so much to me!

They met for coffee the next day at noon. The coffeehouse was a quaint little shop on the corner of the street with soft pink walls, white chairs, and pictures of cupcakes hanging on the wall. All kinds of cakes, pastries and biscuits were on display beneath protective glass domes and the smell of coffee and chocolate filled the air.

 

It most definitely wasn’t the kind of place Daryl Dixon would usually be found in. Rick imagined him in some backwater bar, hanging outside by the bikes smoking or playing pool and drinking beer, not sitting in a coffeehouse sipping a vanilla latte, yet here he was. Daryl’s black leather jacket, dark jeans, and grey shirt stood out vividly against the mix of bright and pastel colours of his surroundings. He was so awkwardly out of his comfort zone that he was refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on his drink. Rick was finding it hard not to laugh.

 

“I’m beginning to think you chose this place on purpose,” Daryl growled as a young girl wearing a yellow dress bounced passed their table, the long ribbon she wore in her hair trailing behind her like the tails of a kite.

 

Rick tried to hide his smirk around the rim of his coffee as he lifted it and keep a sip. “It’s close to my house, that’s why I chose it.”

 

Daryl snorted and the three women sitting on the table next to them glanced at him. Rick threw them a charming smile and they returned it before going back to their chatter.

 

“Flirt,” Daryl scoffed.

 

Rick felt the back of his neck go hot, “I was just being friendly. They’re old enough to be my mother.”

 

Daryl changed the subject abruptly, “Have you met _her_ yet?”

 

Rick blinked, confused, “Met who yet?”

 

Daryl looked quickly out of the window, “No one, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

Leaning forward in his chair, Rick reached out and laid his hand on top of Daryl’s where it lay balled into a fist on the table top. The feeling of the other man’s skin against his sent electricity sparking down his spine, but the sensation was quickly replaced with one far less pleasant. Skin slick with something hot, thick and sticky, the tang of copper in the air – _blood_ – there was so much blood on their hands. Daryl withdrew his hand from beneath Rick’s and hid it beneath the table in his lap.

 

“Daryl,” Rick said shakily, taking a grounding breath, “who were you talking about?” He felt that it was important, something deep inside him telling him so, yet another thing he couldn’t explain but just knew.

 

“ _Lori_ , her name was Lori,” Daryl spoke gruffly, eyes still fixed staring out of the window.

 

He didn’t know anyone by that name, it didn’t cause a rush of memories like Daryl’s mention of Merle last night had, but he did feel a wave of sadness wash over him.

 

“W-who was she?” He was almost frightened to ask.

 

Daryl didn’t answer immediately, he lifted his mug, taking a gulp of the hot drink. “I’m not sure. I dreamt… _remembered_ …her last night. Something told me she was important but I don’t know how, I was hoping you had remembered her too.”

 

“In your dream-“ Rick stopped, correcting himself as Daryl had, “in your _memory_ , did you see them, the walkers?”

 

Daryl looked sharply at Risk, blue eyes wide. He muttered darkly, “Yeah, I saw them, I _killed_ one…you have to get the head otherwise they just keep coming.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Rick hissed, panic rising up his chest, “What is this, Daryl? Are we both losing it?”

 

Inhaling, Daryl moved his drink to one side and held out his hand, palm facing upwards. “Give me your hand.”

 

Rick obeyed, laying his gently onto Daryl’s waiting palm. He braced himself, expecting the sensation from before to return but nothing happened. Daryl kept one eye on Rick’s face, gaging his reaction, as he traced a fingertip down Rick’s middle finger, down his palm, to his wrist. Rick gasped, his whole arm tingling, a fierce blush rising up his neck.

 

“I knew you would react like that,” Daryl said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse, “Your hands…” He moved his fingers across Rick’s palm, speaking slowly, “Where was the first place I kissed you, Rick?”

 

“Y-you haven’t kissed me,” Rick answered, his voice trembling, sounding miles away.

 

“No,” Daryl said, shaking his head, his fingers stopping, “Think, Rick, where?”

 

The memory burst before Rick’s eyes. They were sitting in a car, the bonnet rumbled and steam rising from the engine, the windshield was spattered with gore and the windows were smeared with blood. He glanced up into the rear-view mirror and saw the carnage that lay in their wake, the mangled bodies, some still moving – walkers. His hands were gripping the steering wheel and he was panting, heart hammering and whole body shaking.

 

 _Alive, they were still alive, they had made it._ He turned his head slowly to look at Daryl sitting shotgun. The Daryl of his memory was older than the one he was sat with now in the coffeehouse, he had more lines on his face, longer hair, and less light in his eyes.

 

“A-are you alright?” He asked. Daryl wasn’t looking at him, he was staring ahead, face white beneath the layer of grime coating his skin.

 

“We…are we still here?” Daryl whispered.

 

“Yes,” Rick assured him, pricing one hand off the steering wheel to reach out and lay it on Daryl’s shoulder, “We did it, Daryl, we cleared the way, now the others have a chance.”

 

Daryl looked at him and Rick saw his eyes were wet with tears. He was shocked, he had rarely seen Daryl cry, the two just didn’t go together.

 

“What’s wrong?” His hand moved on its own accord to slide up Daryl’s neck to cup his cheek.

 

“I-I’m glad it’s you, Rick,” Daryl breathed, “I’m glad you’re the one who’s been by my side through all this. I…I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”

 

“Daryl, I…” Rick trailed off, not knowing what to say. Daryl turned his face into Rick’s hand and kissed his palm.

 

“M-my hand,” Rick murmured, snapping out of the memory to answer Daryl’s question, “in the car…you kissed my palm.”

 

“Yes,” Daryl said, “Now, how can that be? How can we both have the exact same memory?”

 

“Because we were both there, we lived it, we remember it.”

 

Daryl nodded, “But not in this life.”

 

“This life…” Rick repeated, dumbfounded. Was that the answer to this connection between them, to their memories, their feelings, that they used to know each other, had been together, in a past life?

 

“Sounds crazy though, right?” Daryl muttered, letting out a sigh and sitting back heavily in his seat.

 

“Yes,” Rick leaned forwards, chasing Daryl’s hand till he caught it and entwined their fingers, “but it makes sense at the same time – other than the walkers that is.”

 

Daryl grunted in agreement, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rick’s hand. Rick’s whole body sung and his hand tingled.

 

“How's your leg?” He asked, trying to change the subject. Daryl shrugged his shoulder and Rick felt his knee brush his underneath the table.

 

“It’s alright, not infected or anything, could have been a lot worse.”

 

The back of Rick’s neck burned, “I am really sorry about hitting you with my car, Daryl.”

 

Daryl squeezed his hand, “And I told you, forget about it, it was partly my fault too.”

 

“It was a hell of a way to meet,” Rick mused, a smile spreading across his mouth. He caught Daryl’s eyes flicker down to his lips then quickly back up to his eyes. Feeling brave, he moved his knee till he touched Daryl’s and left it there, resting against his.

 

Daryl’s cheeks reddened slightly and he smiled, “I think it was even more memorable than the first time.”

 

“The first time?” Rick repeated. He waiting, hoping to relive the memory, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he asked, “You remembered when he first met…before?”

 

Daryl nodded then frowned, “You don’t?”

 

A shudder went through Rick. He blinked and there was the man again, holding his gun to Daryl’s head, the shattering noise of the shot, the blood exploding into the air. Rick knew now it hadn’t simply been a nightmare, if what they suspected was true – that these memories were of them in their past lives – then what he had seen had happened once…it had been real.

 

“No…but I remember the last –“ Rick broke off, he couldn’t say it aloud, he couldn’t tell Daryl he had seen him die – that it had been his fault.

 

He was saved from Daryl questioning him by his mobile buzzing in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, it was Shane calling him. He noticed the time - shit - he had class in ten minutes, sitting here with Daryl he had completely forgot.

 

“Sorry,” he said quickly to Daryl before he tapped the ‘accept’ button on his mobile and held it to his ear.

 

“Hey, Shane.”

 

_“Rick, you alright? I went by your place to give you a lift to campus but there was no answer?”_

 

Shane sounded worried and Rick replied guiltily, “Yeah, sorry, I’m with someone right now. I’ll be in class, I’m now on my way.”

 

Daryl looked crestfallen for a second but he quickly hid it.

 

 _“You’re with him, aren’t you? That guy, Daryl?”_ Now his friend sounded frustrated.

 

Confused, Rick retorted, “Yeah, so what if I am?”

 

 _“I don’t know, man, I just…get the feeling he’s bad news.”_ Rick could picture Shane shaking his head as he spoke.

 

“I’ll see you in class, Shane,” he said briskly then hung open without waiting to hear his friend’s reply. He knew he had been rude and that Shane was only looking out for him, but the moment he had spoken about Daryl like that a surge of anger and protectiveness consumed him like he had never felt before – not in this life anyway.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rick said as he caught Daryl’s eye, “I have to go. I have a class to get to.”

 

“Can I give you a ride?”

 

Rick opened his mouth to decline – it was only a short walk to campus after all – but he saw the anticipation in Daryl’s eyes and felt his own curiosity rise.

 

“Sure, that would be great.”

 

They downed the rest of their drinks and got up to leave, Daryl tugging on his leather jacket and Rick hitching the strap of his bag other his shoulder and across his chest. Exiting the coffeehouse – the small bell overhanging the door tingling them farewell – Rick followed Daryl around the back of the building to where he had left his bike.

 

Rick felt a wave of contentment spread through his chest at the sight of the familiar machine, like the feeling when you entered your house after being away for an extended period of time. The black bike with its high handlebars and round headlight seemed to beckon to Rick and he couldn’t help but running a hand over its cool metal.

 

“It’s the same,” he murmured aloud as Daryl swung a leg over the frame and sat on the leather seat, wincing slightly as his injured leg gave a throb.

 

“She sure is. You getting on?”

 

Rick blinked and blushed, realising he had been admiring the bike with his mouth slightly open. Daryl smirked and patted the small space behind him. As he slid onto the back of the bike, Rick couldn’t help but feel like he was coming home. Daryl started up the engine with a roar and Rick let out a whooping laugh.

 

“I remember this!” He shouted over the noise as Daryl revved it playfully. The seat and frame shook between his legs and he slipped his arms around the older man’s waist.

 

“Ready?” Daryl said over his shoulder, turning his head to meet Rick’s eyes. Their faces were so close, all Rick had to do was move forward another inch and their lips would touch.

 

“I was born ready,” Rick answered, not exactly sure where those words had come from but knowing he had never spoken any truer. From the moment he had been born he had been waiting for Daryl to find him again, for their paths to cross, their lives to collide. He hadn’t been aware of it then but he was now – and he had a lot of years to make up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter kind of felt like a bit of a filler-chapter. Next time: BAR FIGHT (Look forward to that :P)


	6. Don't leave a guy hanging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter didn't quite go to plan, but I had a blast writing it. Hopefully you guys do too reading it! There's an OC of mine in this part, if any of you have read 'A Twisted Tale' then you'll recognise him ;)
> 
> Warning: Some homophobic language used in this chapter.

Rick wasn’t quite sure how he ended up in the club, but what he was sure about was that it was entirely Shane’s fault. During class that afternoon their friend, Michael, had been chatting away about how his older brother had just opened a new club in town and that he could get them free drinks. Shane immediately jumped on the band wagon – as soon as there was alcohol mentioned he was in – and Rick kind of just found himself agreeing. Truthfully, all he had wanted to do that night was lay on the sofa texting Daryl and thinking about Daryl in the moments when he was waiting eagerly for a reply to a message.

 

Yet, he here was, leaning against the corner of the brightly lit bar looking around at the room full of people dancing or sitting around chatting and drinking. The club was nice, Rick had to admit. It was simple, the middle of the room was the dance floor, the outside taken up by curved comfy seats and a long bar reaching across the back wall. The ceiling was mirrored and the lights flashed off the reflective surface. A DJ stood on a raised platform, regularly taking requests from girls who clambered up and shouting into his ear.

 

Shane appeared by Rick’s side, clapping a large hand on his shoulder, grinning broadly.

 

“See, this is much better than mopping around at home all night!” He said loudly over the beat of the music. Rick forced himself to smile and nod, it was easier than objecting. Michael came towards them through the crowd, his face flushed and eyes wild.

 

“Up for another round?” He asked, putting his hands flat on the polished surface of the bar and gesturing for the barman who was flirting with a tall blonde girl a few feet away.

 

“I’m good, thanks,” Rick said, holding up his still half-full glass.

 

“Come on, Rick!” Michael shouted, looping an arm around his neck and tugging him roughly against his side, “Lighten-up!”

 

Rick caught hold of his friend’s arm and calmly disentangled himself. From his jean pocket his phone buzzed and he instantly forgot about everything else. Pulling out his phone he couldn’t help but smile as he saw – as he had hoped – the message was from Daryl.

 

_What u up 2?_

 

Rick quickly texted back, _Mates dragged me 2 a club._ He was only half aware of Shane reading the screen over his shoulder as Daryl’s reply arrived.

 

_Which 1? Not the new 1 on the corner with the cheezy mirror ceiling_

 

_Yep, afraid so ;) fancy joining me?_

 

Rick waiting, heart beating quickly, but no responding text arrived. He frowned, had he done something wrong? To distract himself he reached for his glass and took a large gulp. The alcohol burned the back of his throat. He caught Shane watching him and said, maybe too defensively, “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Shane muttered, picking up his shot glass and throwing the contents back. He pulled a face then jerked his head towards the dancefloor, “Come on, this is a club isn’t it? Let’s dance.”

 

Rick wanted to protest, he wasn’t much of a dancing, especially when he wasn’t drunk. _Then again_ , he thought with one final hopeful look at his phone – still no reply from Daryl - to Hell with it, _there’s always a way to rectify that_. He downed the rest of his drink then reached over to steal Michael’s shot he was just reaching for.

 

“Hey!” His friend exclaimed as Rick swallowed the vodka.

 

“What? It’s not like you paid for it!” Rick winked at his friend as he skidded the empty shot glass across the bar and into his hand.

 

Michael’s disgruntled face changed back into his lopsided grin and he threw back his head and laughed. “You’re right!” He turned his back on Rick and shouted to the barman, “Another vodka shot!”

 

Rick left Michael waiting for his refill and weaved his way through the throng of people after Shane. His best mate wasn’t hard to find, his broad shoulders sticking out amongst the sea of bodies. Shane gave him the thumbs up as he spotted him and for a moment Rick forgot all about Daryl and his visions and just became himself again – the _him_ from now, the twenty-two year old college student.

 

He wasn’t sure for how long they danced for, Rick found himself becoming lost in the movement, the flashing lights and the drumming of the music that seemed to reverberate through every cell in his body. At some point Michael reappeared, holding three shot glasses between his fingers. Neither he nor Shane bothered asking what was in them before accepting them. The buzz of the alcohol through Rick’s body was exhilarating, the drumming deep in his ears, the heat rushing through his veins like liquid fire. He felt like he was falling into a trance. He moved with the music, following the rhythm of the dancing crowd surrounding him. Tilting back his head, he stared up at the mirrored ceiling, the reflected lights shining into his eyes. He had the sense that he was inside a glass prism, the light bouncing all around him. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head forwards, his skull feeling as if it was made of stone it felt so heavy.

 

There was hot breath against the back of his ear and he blinked. The mass of swaying and grinding bodies seemed to part before his eyes, the edges of his vision becoming dark. A walker suddenly lurched out from between the figures, dragging its mangled leg, mouth gapping and skin hanging from its face.

 

Rick recalled, knocking into the people behind him. Angry shouts pressed against his eardrums and rough hands shoved him back. He stumbled and almost fell, his foggy brain reacting too slowly, his balance slipping through his fingers. Shane caught him under the arm and heaved him up, shooting daggers over his shoulder at whoever had pushed him.

 

“Rick, you alright?” Shane’s voice sounded to Rick as if it was echoing down a long tunnel. He held onto his friend’s arm as he looked around frantically, searching for the walker, but of course he found nothing. He let out a groan, wishing with everything he had that Daryl was with him.

 

“Rick?” Shane was leaning in close to him, Michael too had stopped dancing and was watching him.

 

“I’m OK,” he croaked, “I-I think I need to use the bathroom.”

 

“It’s over there,” Michael gestured, pointing towards the left side of the bar where a doorframe was just visible.

 

Shane began to guide him off the dancefloor but Rick stopped him, putting a shaking hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine, Shane, I can go on my own.” He needed to go alone, to get a hold of himself, to calm down without having Shane staring at him. Shane held back, thankfully, as he forced his unsteady legs and walked passed the bar and pushed open the door.

 

The bathroom seemed dimly lit compared to the brightness of the lights on the dancefloor. There was a line of four cubicles on one side, two urinals straight ahead, and a row of sinks with mirrors and hand dryers on the other. As far as he could tell it was empty.

 

Rick made it to a sink and braced himself against it, gripping the cool porcelain and breathing hard. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his skin was pale and his eyes red. The bathroom door banged open behind him and Rick jumped. He watched a man dressed in a red shirt and black jeans walk passed him in the mirror to stand in front of one of the urinals. Rick looked away, focusing back on his own reflection.

 

The light directly overhead flickered.

 

Suddenly there was blood smeared across his mouth and down his chin and between his teeth, as if he had taken a bite out of someone. His face was much older, with a dense mostly-grey beard and long, wild curls streaked with silver, and his eyes were feral - eyes of a madman. He barely recognised himself.

 

Frantically, he looked down and turned on the tap. Cupping the cold water in his hands, he lowered his head and splashed the water over his face. There was no rasp of a beard against his fingers and he looked up so see his familiar, young, clean-shaven face staring back at him. Numb, he turned off the tap and leaned in close to the mirror. He opened his mouth and checked his teeth – no blood – he glanced down into the sink – nothing but clear water. Rick closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold surface of the mirror, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths.

 

That person he had seen – the past, older version of himself – that wasn’t someone he never could have imagined being. What caused a man to have such a look in his eyes? What horrors must he had witnessed? But, what was really bothering Rick – the blood on his face and in his mouth – was the question of what things had he done to survive? He found it impossible to understand how Daryl could have loved a man like that.

 

Approaching footsteps then the hiss of running water snapped him back. Rick straightened up and glanced sideways at the man who had been using the urinal, now washing his hands in the sink next to him. The man was older than Rick, middle-aged. He had an average face, not unattractive but not quite handsome either, with greying brown hair and eyes that seemed to hold a great weight to them. Danger, untrustworthy, unpredictable, those were the vibes Rick instantly got from the man.

 

His skin crawled…he recognised him. _Get out_ , he had to get away from the man.

 

Rick fled the bathroom, feeling the man’s gaze boring into the back of his skull as he went, even after the door had banged shut behind him. He was shaken and on edge, he wanted to leave, to go home. Only _home_ no longer was a place but a person, Daryl, he needed to go to Daryl. The floor tilted underfoot and he stumbled again, catching himself on the edge of the bar. He paused for a moment, trying to stop the room from spinning – what the hell had been in that shot glass?

 

“What can I get you?” the barman was standing in front of him.

 

Rick was just about to tell him to fuck off when a voice answered for him. “I think he’s had enough.”

 

“Daryl!” Rick gasped, staring at the man who had appeared as if by magic next to him at the bar.

 

“You could have waited for me to get here before you drank yourself stupid,” Daryl mused with a smirk. Rick just gapped at him.

 

The smile slipped from Daryl’s face slightly, “What’s wrong, Rick? Did you not get my text saying I was on my way? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

 

Rick threw his arms around Daryl’s neck and buried his face into the side of his neck. He clung on for dear life, terrified at any moment Daryl would vanish as suddenly as he had appeared.

 

“Hey,” Daryl soothed, rubbing his hands over Rick’s back, hugging him tight around the waist, “Rick, Jesus, what’s up with you?”

 

“I-I saw –“ Rick broke off, unable to complete his sentence. He didn’t know who he had seen, the man in the bathroom…he didn’t remember his name or what he had done or how he had known him, all he knew was that he wanted to get as far away from him as was possible. Daryl cupped his face in his hand, peering at him worriedly. Rick felt his knees go weak and he leaned in, about kissed Daryl.

 

“Hey, faggots, get the fuck out of here!”

 

Rick jumped backwards out of Daryl’s arms. Three men were leering at him from the corner of the bar, faces filled with disgusted. Rick was shocked, so far in his life he had been lucky when it came to his sexuality, his friends and family all accepted him and he had never really come across bullying at school - he had always run in the popular crowd which had helped. This was the first time someone had so savagely expressed their hatred towards him. Clearly though, Daryl was more used to dealing with peoples pathetic bullshit.

 

“What the fuck did you just call us?” He snarled, moving towards the men, eager for a fight.

 

“You heard me!” Spat the largest of the three men, he took a large gulp of his beer then continued, “We don’t want your kind here, get the fuck out!”

 

Daryl moved too fast for Rick to stop him. He punched the guy so hard that he toppled off his stool and landed hard on his back. His two friends jumped to their feet, one hurrying he heave him up, the other rounding on Daryl with hands balled into fists, raised.

 

“Daryl, don’t!” Rick tried but he was too late once again. Jumping at the guy, Daryl took a sharp punch to the stomach before he rammed into the man and kneed him hard in the groin. The man screamed in pain and dropped to the floor, clutching his groin and whimpering.

 

“Come on then!” Daryl challenged, baring his teeth at them menacing.

 

The guy who had spoken was nursing a heavily bleeding nose and he grabbed his friend’s arm as he made to take-up Daryl’s challenge. “Leave it.” The three men slunk away into the crowd.

 

“Rick!” Shane had spotted him from across the dancefloor and had just reached him, “What the hell is going on?”

 

Daryl looked over his shoulder at who had spoken and he went stiff at the sight of Shane. A bad feeling rose up in the pit of Rick’s stomach.

 

“Rick,” Daryl growled, moving towards him almost predatorily, “let’s go.”

 

Shane was staring at Daryl so fiercely for a moment Rick feared he was about to punch him.

 

“It’s fine. Shane, this is Daryl,” he said quickly, hoping to defuse the situation – though he wasn’t quite sure what situation this even _was_.

 

“The guy who hit with your car?”

 

Rick resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes, he’s my –“ He paused, looking at Daryl and wondering how the hell he should describe him, “my friend.” For now the simplest would have to do.

 

Shane didn’t look convinced and when Daryl reached out and took hold of Rick’s wrist, tugging him towards the exit, he narrowed his eyes and took a step forwards.

 

“Stop, Shane, I’m fine. I want to go with him. I’ll text you tomorrow, I promise.”

 

Daryl and Shane locked eyes for a long second, some kind of unspoken, mental war going on between them. Clearly Daryl won, for Shane grumbled, “You better,” then moved out of their way.

 

Rick all too happily followed Daryl out of the club and into the fresh night air. He breathed in a huge lung-full of it and looked up at the heavens.

 

“Rick?” He turned to Daryl and was surprised by how close he found the other’s face to his. Time seemed to halt and everything fell away until it was just them standing beneath the endless night sky.

 

Daryl closed the gap between them and pressed his mouth hungrily to Rick’s. Eyes falling shut, Rick sank into Daryl and tilted his head slightly so they were locked together at a better angle. Everything about the kiss was so familiar and comforting, yet new and exciting at the same time. The taste of Daryl, the slight scratch of his stubble, the roughness to his chapped lips, and the way his hands slid over his waist, one snaking around to press into the small of his back, bringing their bodies close against one another. Daryl hummed against Rick’s mouth and he eagerly parted his lips. A small moan was snatched from his throat as Daryl’s wet tongue traced his bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and sucked gently. Never wanting the kiss to end, Rick tangled a hand in Daryl’s hair and slipped his own tongue between Daryl’s lips, chasing his.

 

The bouncer on the door cleared his throat loudly and they broke apart. Rick flushed bright red and Daryl let out a hoarse chuckle.

 

“Don't leave a guy hanging like that," Daryl said, smiling broadly and openly. Rick found it irresistible to lean back in and kiss Daryl’s smiling mouth, hoping he could savour the happiness like the sweet taste of honey. Laughing, Daryl escaped from Rick’s arms but reached out and took his hand.

 

“Let’s go.” Rick found he didn’t need to ask where to, if Daryl was with him it didn’t matter where in the world they went, or in what lifetime they were, as long as they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY, the 'first' kissed <3 So, who do you think the guy in the bathroom was? 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I currently have no idea what's happening next so please bear with me for the next update!


	7. Unfamiliar Scars and Burnt Bacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE THANK YOU TO MY DEAR FRIEND Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson for helping me with this chapter (you guys wouldn't be getting an update right now if it wasn't for her), she wrote part of it and gave me inspiration for the rest <3 I love you, hun, thank you! <3 Please go check out her fics! http://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Daryl_Grimes

They lay together in a bed that was not theirs, in a house that they did not own, in a town they did not know the name of. Despite all that, Rick felt at home because of the man who lay beside him. Daryl was sleeping soundly, sprawled out across the mattress, hair a mess and skin still lightly flushed from their earlier love-making. The others were scattered about the house and all was quiet. They were safe, for now. Rick lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, looking down at Daryl. He watched the steady rise and fall of his bare chest, transfixed by the shimmering of the thin layer of sweat that rested against his skin. The only source of light came from the full moon shining through the bedroom window. The silvery glow made Daryl’s skin appear strikingly pale, giving the illusion he was made of porcelain. Rick reached out a gentle hand and touch the soft skin of his stomach, running his thumb over the arch of his hipbone.

 

He was so entranced he barely noticed the rough scar that grazed his fingertips as he ran them upwards to rest his palm over Daryl’s beating heart. The scar sat just below Daryl’s left pec, Rick frowned. He didn’t remember ever seeing it before but he knew all of his lover’s scars, or so he had thought. Daryl stirred, his hand coming up to hold Rick’s.

 

“Hey,” he mumbled, cracking open one eye, “Why are you still awake?”

 

Rick sighed, leaning in to kiss Daryl chastely on the lips, “Couldn’t sleep.”

 

“You need to rest, Rick,” Daryl said, tugging him down so he was lying flush against him.

 

Rick couldn’t help but smile against Daryl’s shoulder, “it’s sweet how you worry about me.”

 

“Damn straight,” the red-neck growled, turning his head and nuzzling his hair. Rick rubbed his thumb over the scar once more. It was troubling him how he had never noticed it before.

 

“Where did you get this scar?”

 

“Hmm?” Daryl lifted his head slightly off the pillow and looking down, “That one? I got it…” He trailed off, a deep line creasing his forehead. “I…don’t know, I don’t remember.”

 

Rick opened his eyes, the dream evaporating from his senses to instantly be replaced with a throbbing in his head and a furry feeling tongue and foul taste. Groaning, he sat up and looked around at his bedroom, wincing as the bright sunlight blazed into his irises.

 

“Fuck,” he swore, flopping back down onto his pillow and rolling over onto his side. His stomach gave a heave and he curled up tight, hugging the duvet close.

 

The memories of last night came trickling back slowly into his dehydrated brain, like rain droplets running down a window. He hadn’t drunk enough last night for it to be all a blur but just enough for him to wonder whether he was remembering everything exactly right. What he had seen in the bathroom mirror – the past version of himself all bloody and wild – made him shudder. Who had the man been? Still, Rick could not recall and it frustrated him. There was something though, gnawing at the back of his mind…

 

_A sword_ , its long polished blade being held to someone’s neck, someone who Rick couldn’t see but knew meant a great deal to him. _“Liar.”_ The man’s voice echoed deep in Rick’s ears and every hair on his body stood on end.

 

He clambered out of bed, not wanting to revive the rest of the flashback. Unfortunately that made his delicate stomach lurch and he quickly had to sit back down again. Groaning once more, he put his face in his hands and thought, _why is this happening to me?_

 

“Rick?” Daryl’s uncertain voice drifted from the door. _Well, I guess it’s not all bad._

 

Looking up, Rick felt his heart melt at the sight of Daryl hovered awkwardly in the doorway. His hair was sticking up in places, his clothes were rumpled and there was a long crease line down the side of his face.

 

“You’ve been here the whole night?” the question slipped from Rick’s lips incredulously.

 

Daryl rubbed the back of his head, his t-shirt ridding up slightly and giving Rick a tantalising peek of a dark line of hair. He mouth was suddenly very dry. “Yeah, I - you were pretty smashed - I wanted to make sure you were alright, so I crashed on your sofa. I did ask you if that was cool.”

 

Rick didn’t remember that, in fact he didn’t remember how he got home at all. The last thing from last night that was clear in his head was Daryl kissing him outside the club. His cheeks burned at the memory and he was overcome with the desire to leap from the bed and kiss Daryl once more. But he didn’t, he felt like if he did he may vomit.

 

“Fuck,” he growled, rubbing his forehead, “I don’t know what’s wrong, I didn’t drink that much at the club. I can hold my drink.” He said the last part almost defensively.

 

“Well, you didn’t exactly stop drinking after we left the club,” Daryl said slowly.

 

There was an amused glint in his eye making him finally seem his current age – which Rick guessed at mid to late twenties. He hadn’t realised it up till then but he had been considering Daryl to be older, to be the age he had been when they had known one another before.

 

“What do you mean?” He asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable by his latest realisation.

 

Daryl smiled, “I think you’d better come and see for yourself.”

 

Sighing, Rick heaved himself out of bed. He noticed that he was wearing only his boxers and his old high school football shirt, he wondered briefly if he had undressed himself last night or if Daryl had done it after he had passed out. Face yet again going red, he crossed his room to pull out dark blue sweatpants and ungracefully put them on. His head was spinning and his stomach was throbbing dangerously. _Please don’t throw up, please don’t throw up_ , he prayed silently as he straightened up and turned back to Daryl still standing in the doorway.

 

A few moments later Rick was standing by his sofa in his living room, mouth gapping and eyes wide. There was crumpled coke and beer cans scattered everywhere and a half-empty vodka bottle lying on the table. Rick groaned at the sight.

 

“You insisted we stopped at a store on the way home,” Daryl told him, sounding as if he was trying not to laugh.

 

“I drank all of this?” Rick gestured around at the mess.

 

“Well,” said Daryl stepped to Rick’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I had a couple of beers.”

 

Rick closed his eyes as the room spun and turned towards Daryl, letting his head flop down onto Daryl’s shoulder. Instantly he felt Daryl’s hand come up and his fingers thread into his hair and he sighed heavily. He wrapped an arm around Daryl’s waist and pressed himself tight against the other man, wishing he could sink into him.

 

“Come on,” Daryl murmured, his breath ghosting over Rick’s ear, “I’ll make us breakfast.”

 

Rick didn’t move, concentrating fully on the feeling of Daryl’s warmth through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Daryl huffed and kissed the exposed skin on Rick’s neck, making him jump in surprise. Lifting his head, he met the older man eyes and smiled doggedly. He leaned in but Daryl put a hand on his cheek, stopping their lips from touching. Rick blinked in confused, feeling hurt.

 

“You’re brushing your teeth before we do anymore of that,” Daryl chuckled, eyes filled with fondness and tenderness.

 

Embarrassed, Rick cleared his throat and stepped back, muttering, “R-right, ok, sorry.”

 

Daryl laughed, reaching out and smoothing Rick’s bed head curls, repeating, “I’ll make us breakfast.”

 

Whilst Daryl headed into the small kitchen, Rick went to the bathroom and freshened up, splashing his face with water and brushing his teeth ferociously. He left the door ajar to make sure Daryl could hear what he was doing – just to make a point. He made sure not to look into the mirror, dreading the sight of his own reflection, unfortunately he remembered what happened in the bathroom at the club only too vividly.

 

The sound and smell of sizzling bacon welcomed Rick in the kitchen and he halted on the threshold, just taking in the sight of Daryl standing over the oven, spatula in hand. _I want to spend the rest of my life with this man – and the next – forever, repeatedly._ Unable to resist, he walked up behind Daryl and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his lips to his skin behind his ear. Daryl twisted his head around and caught Rick’s lips in a gentle kiss. Rick hummed into it, spreading his hands wide across Daryl’s stomach and kissing the other man back eagerly. Electricity was buzzing through his veins and heat blossomed in his chest.

 

“Bacons burning,” Daryl said against Rick’s lips, trying to turn his attention back to the pan but failing as Rick deepened the kiss. Giving in, Daryl turned to gently wrap his arms around Rick, neither man noticing the clatter of the spatula falling to the ground. They moved closer, as close as they could physically get.

 

Rick get out a gasp as his back hit the wall and suddenly Daryl’s hands were sliding down to grasp his thighs. Daryl gently lifted him with more strength then Rick has expected from him and pinned him hard against the wall. A wanton moan slipped from Rick’s lips, allowing Daryl’s tongue to press inside his mouth. They wrestled for dominance for a short while, before Daryl spun them around and sitting Rick on the kitchen counter. His hand trailed down his back, gently sliding into the waistband of his trousers, groping his ass. Rick’s hips lifted up, trying to get Daryl to tug his sweatpants off, only for the sharp blare of the fire alarm to pierce the air and ruin the mood.

 

Their mouths came apart and they stared at each other for a moment before Daryl cursed, jumping to the hob and turning the ring off. Rick laughed, staring at the black, curled mess in the pan that used to resemble bacon. The fire alarm was still blaring above his head and he jumped down from the working top and snatched up a magazine from the side. He began to wave it beneath the fire alarm, shouting over the shrill noise to Daryl, “Open the window!”

 

After a few more seconds of magazine waving, the sound stopped and Daryl looked at Rick with round, apologetic eyes.

 

“So much for making breakfast,” Rick joked, his body still too turned on to care whatsoever about the burnt bacon and probably ruined pan.

 

Daryl rubbed his hands over his face, looking mortified, “Shit, Rick, I’m so sorry, I –“

 

Rick interrupted him by stepping into his personal space and crashing their lips together again. Daryl relaxed against Rick in relief.

 

Daryl chuckled into their kiss and Rick pulled back just enough to ask, “Now, where were we?”

 

“I think I was unintentionally trying to burn your place down,” Daryl replied with a wink, leaning back and instantly retaking control. He began to lead Rick out of the kitchen, his hands on the other’s hips, never breaking the kiss.

 

They reached the living room without either of them tripping over – which Rick couldn’t as a win no matter what was about to happen – and Daryl pushed him down onto the sofa. They separated unwillingly for air and they locked eyes for a moment. They both were panting, their faces flushed and eyes blown wide.

 

“Have you – have you ever felt anything like this before?” Rick struggled to get his tongue to form the question. He needed to hear that Daryl was feeling what he was feeling, the sensation of finding something you’d been missing your whole life. Daryl ran a hand up beneath Rick’s t-shirt, pressing his hand flat against his beating heart.

 

“Yes, I have,” he said, eyes filled with heat, “But only ever with you.”

 

Rick craned his neck up to catch Daryl’s lips in his, hoping he could convey some of what he was feeling right then in the kiss. Desire blazed through him like a wildfire, rekindled and hungry. He forgot to breathe for a moment as Daryl shifting against him, his heavy body lying on top of his, his hands running all over his body. Daryl pushed himself up off Rick long enough to pull his sweatpants down. Rick struggled to tug his t-shirt off over his head and he gasped aloud as Daryl’s lips grazed against the bare skin of his chest. He tossed the t-shirt away and threw back his head, giving Daryl as much room as he could to lavish sucking bits to his neck and collarbone. He slipped his fingers into the man’s unruly long hair, fisting the hand as Daryl bit down harder onto his skin, leaving a mark for later. He clung on to the older man as they began to grind their bodies together, both desperate for the needed friction.

 

Rick was just wondering how much longer he could take this before he needed more – which meant moving and going to his room where he kept the lube – when a loud, angry knock hammered against his front door. He groaned, burying his face into Daryl’s shoulder, hoping if he just ignored it the knocking would stop.

 

“Rick?” He felt Daryl tense against him at the sound of Shane’s voice outside.

 

“Fuck,” he swore, meeting Daryl’s eyes, “I said I’d call him this morning and I didn’t, fuck.”

 

Daryl kissed him gently on the lips then disentangled himself and stood up.

 

“What are you doing?” Rick hissed, sitting up and shivering as his bare chest hit the air. Straightening his clothes, Daryl threw a dangerous smirk over his shoulder at Rick before he moved towards the front door.

 

“No, Daryl, don’t!” Rick scrambled to his feet and tried to stop him but it was too. Daryl pulled open the front door and their Shane stood, fist raised to knock again. Rick watched his friend’s eyes widen in surprise then narrow in anger at the sight of Daryl, but then his gaze slid passed him to fix on Rick.

 

_Of course_ , Rick thought bitterly as he looked down at himself, _I would be almost completely naked with a huge fresh hickey on my neck!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :D 
> 
> Again, please go check out my co-author for this chapter: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Daryl_Grimes


	8. The man who killed him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little different, it's from Shane's POV. Sorry it's short but I've been struggling with inspiration but thought I'd better update something at least.

The nightmares began the same day that Rick had told him about the accident, about the guy he had hit. Shane hadn’t put the two together until last night when he had seen Daryl’s face. The first dream hadn’t started as a nightmare. He and Rick had been older; they had achieved their dream of becoming cops. They had been partners, cruising side-by-side in the car, chatting and smiling then they the radio had crackled into life.

 

The majority of the rest of the dream was a blur until the nightmare burst in. The turned over car, the guy emerging from the wreck brandishing the gun. The guy aiming, the police officers opening fire, the gunshots deafeningly loud. Rick had been out in the open, away from the cover of the vehicles. Somehow through the gunfire Shane heard Rick’s yell as he was hit and he had watched his best friend fall to the ground.

 

The second the shooting stopped, he had rushed to Rick’s side, shouting his name. To his relief Rick seemed unhurt, the bulletproof vest he wore beneath his uniform having saved him. He had stumbled to his feet but suddenly a third gunman had appeared from behind the car. Rick’s back had been too him, Shane’s line of sight blocked. The gunshot had split the air and Rick’s cried out in agony as the bullet tore into his side where the vest did not cover. Shane pumped his shotgun and took the gunman out.

 

“Rick!” He fell to his knees next to his friend as he writhed in pain, staring up at the sky with his blue eyes wide and glassy. _Panic, terror,_ Shane had never known such overwhelming feelings then in that moment.

 

“No, no, no, no.” He had chanted frantically, tearing Rick’s shirt open to see the gunshot wound, covering the gaping hole with his hands, trying to stem the flow of blood.

 

“He’s hit! You get that ambulance out here and you tell them there’s an officer down, you do it now!” He shouted over his shoulder then turned his full attention to his friend. “Shh, you look at me, you stay with me, you hear me? Shh, Rick, you stay with me, you hear me? Shh, it’s ok.” He repeated those words – those lies – over and over again. Blood, there had been so much covering his hands, his _best friend’s_ blood, _Rick’s blood_.

 

He had never known a nightmare like that before, so vivid, so unbelievably _real_. Since then he had dreaded something happening to Rick, every second he couldn’t see his friend filled him with panic and fear. The next night when he had gone to bed he had stared up at the dark ceiling for over an hour, too anxious to sleep, terrified he would have the dream again. But when he had finally dozed off the dream that awaited him was different.

 

He had been standing on a grassy hillside, it was the dead of night and a large full moon illuminated his surroundings with pale grey light. He was in the middle of nowhere, on a farm or ranch, he could see a house in the distance and the dark smudge of woodland in the other direction.

 

He had felt _wrong_ , as if there were two versions of him trying to live in the same body, his real self who was aware this wasn’t real and his dream self who was filled with so much rage he could barely stand it. There was a gun in his hands pointed at Rick who had his arms out, a gun pointed downwards in surrender. His finger rested against the trigger, he wanted to pull it so hardly. He felt sick, trapped within this version of himself.

 

Rick was speaking but he could barely here what he was saying, the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears. _What was he doing? Why did he feel like this? What had happened between them that had got them to this point, the point where he wanted to kill his best friend?_

 

“Now, listen to me, Shane,” Rick’s voice sounded a mile away, “There is still a way back from this. Nothing has happened here.” Rick was inching closer towards him. “We’re gonna put down out guns and we’re gonna walk back to the farm…together.” He was close now, his outstretched hand almost within grabbing distance to the gun Shane was pointing at him. “Back to Lori. Back to Carl.”

 

 _Who were Lori and Carl? Why was he prepared to kill for them?_ He licked his lips and tasted blood, it was down his face, _what had happened?_

 

“Put this all behind us.” Rick’s eyes were boring into his, he wanted to believe him so bad.

 

Slowly, painfully slowly, he removed one hand from his gun to reach out to take Rick’s from him but he never got to. He saw Rick’s eyes move to something behind him and he sensed rather than heard the person come up behind him. He turned around as Rick shouted, “Daryl, stop!”

 

Daryl pulled the trigger of his crossbow and Shane looked down in disbelief at the bolt that was suddenly protruding from his chest. All the strength evaporated from his body and his legs gave way. He felt Rick catch him under the arms as he slid to the grassy ground. His head rolled back against Rick’s shoulder and he caught a glimpse of the stars and Rick’s face.

 

The world faded to black but he still heard Rick’s agonised cries before he bolted upright in bed, gasping and sweaty.

 

And now, the guy who in his dream had killed him, was standing in Rick’s living room.

 

Last night when he had seen him at the club he had told himself it couldn’t be real, that it had just been some guy who looked similar, that the lights in the club and the alcohol in his system had made him see things. But there was no denying it now. He stared into the face of a man he had never met before, yet somehow had dreamt about, the man who had killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way Shane's been acting is because he's been having the dreams too, not because he's jealous (sorry any Rick/Shane shippers out there)
> 
> Sorry it was shorter than usual! Hope you liked it :)


	9. An Unexpected Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, for the wait, have been struggling to get back into writing this story!

“How is this possible?” Shane exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa which it had taken the past half an hour for Rick to convince him to sit on.

 

“Shane, calm down, sit back down,” Rick tried but he knew he might as well have been talking to a door. Daryl was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and scowling at Shane. Rick wondered what exactly he had seen – _remembered_ – about Shane that he hadn’t told him and why he hadn’t had any memories about his best friend from _before_.

 

“I can’t _calm down_ , Rick!” Shane all-but shouted; Rick winced, knowing he was gonna get an ear-full from his neighbour next time he saw them. “He –“ Shane pointed an accusing find at Daryl “- shot me with a freaking arrow, like Robin Hood or some shit!”

 

“Robin Hood used a long bow,” Daryl said with a smirk curling his lips, “I prefer a crossbow.”

 

Shane took a step towards Daryl and Rick quickly jumped in his way, “Don’t, Shane, please. Daryl, you’re not making this any easier.”

 

Daryl snorted, “Forget it, Rick, he ain’t gonna get it, no matter what you say.”

 

“How am I supposed to act when I have a dream about a guy I’ve never met before who turns out to be real?” Shane demanded then added with spite, “Who it turns out is fucking my best friend – the guy who _killed_ me is _fucking_ my best friend!”

 

“You know it doesn’t make it any less true the more times you say it,” Daryl said sarcastically. Rick felt his face go red.

 

“No – no,” he blurted, whipping his head back and forth between Shane and Daryl, “we’re not – I mean we haven’t yet-“

 

“-Jesus Christ, Rick!” Shane flopped down onto the sofa and put his head in his hands, his large shoulders trembling, “I feel like I’m going out of my mind here!”

 

Throwing an angry glare at Daryl, Rick quickly sat down next to his friend and rubbed his back. “It’s okay, I know what you’re going through. I thought I was going insane too.”

 

“What _is_ this?” Shane dropped his hands and looked at Rick with wide eyes, “How is it possible? These dreams -”

 

“-They’re not dreams,” Daryl interrupted, “we think they’re memories.”

 

Shane gapped at Daryl as Rick added, “We _believe_ we’re somehow remembering our past lives.”

 

“And…” Shane said slowly, disbelievingly, “You think we all _knew_ each other.”

 

Daryl shrugged, “It’s the only thing we can think of that makes any sense.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Shane muttered, “that doesn’t make _any_ fucking sense at all.”

 

“Well then, what would you suggest?” Daryl growled. Shane stood up again and Rick did too, fearing his friend was going to hit Daryl. Fortunately, none of them found out what Shane was about to do for there came a knock at the door. All three of them look towards the door.

 

Daryl raised an eyebrow and glanced at Rick, “You expecting someone?”

 

Rick shook his head and strode across the room towards the front door. As he reached for the handle, his fingertips tingled and through his mind flashed an image of a woman with, high cheekbones, long dark hair and pretty brown eyes. Daryl’s question from back in the coffee shop rang deep in his ears, _“Have you met her yet?”_ He was overcome with a confusing mixture of excitement and dread as he pulled open the front door to see a girl, around nineteen years old, standing there fiddling nervously with the hem of her dress and biting her bottom lip. Their eyes met and suddenly Rick was pacing up and down a hospital waiting room, a doctor came towards him smiling and said, _“Mr Grimes, would you like to come and meet your son?”_

 

“Lori,” he breathed, staring at her as if he was seeing a ghost, which he realised with another flash of memory, he sort of was. _Rage_ , unbelievable rage coursing through his body. An axe in his hands as he sliced through walker after walker down a dimly lit corridor. The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

 

“I – um,” she stammered, blushing and smoothing her hands down the front of her blue dress, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m here, I…you know my name…”

 

“Yes,” Rick said, his heart beating like a drum against his ribs, “I know your name, I remember…”

 

“Rick,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip again, “that’s your name, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I don’t know how I know that.” She looked like she was going to cry. Rick wanted to reach out and hug her. Suddenly he remembered Daryl and Shane stand behind him. _Daryl_. A flood of guilt washed over him. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said to Lori as she took step back from him to give him room, “but right now isn’t a good time for me.”

 

“Oh, of course,” Lori said quickly, tucking a long lock of hair behind her ear, “It’s my fault, I should have called or something…only I don’t have your number…I didn’t even know how I knew you lived here.” Her face was red again, “You must think I’m crazy.”

 

“ _No_ , no not at all,” Rick said, trying to smile reassuringly, “I get it, believe me, can you come back?”

 

Lori nodded, smiling back at him and Rick felt his stomach flip. His hands felt slippery; he glanced down and flinched as he saw they were covered in blood.

 

“I can come back tomorrow morning?”

 

“That would be great,” Rick said honestly.

 

Lori turned to leave but paused, looking back shyly at Rick and said, “You’re younger than I expected you to be.” Then she hurried off down the street, leaving Rick torn between returning to Daryl and running after her. He felt like he was at a crossroads and whichever path he chose would set out something central in his future. His feet wanted him to move forwards, after Lori, because it was the road he knew, it was familiar and easy. But something else, something that felt new, held him back and urged him to step back inside.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Rick headed back inside and came face to face with a suspicious Shane and an angry Daryl.

 

“Who was that?” Daryl demanded. Guilt wrapped itself round Rick’s heart – which was stupid because he hadn’t done anything to make him feel like that. He could tell by the look in Daryl’s eyes that he already knew the answer to his question. There was no point in him lying, yet that didn’t stop Rick from wanting to.

 

“Lori,” he said, bracing himself for the reaction, “it was Lori.”

 

Shane frowning deeply and sat back down on the sofa, looking as if he was trying to remember something extremely important. Daryl, on the other hand, went white and dangerously still.

 

“Daryl,” Rick began, wanting to assure him there was nothing to worry about, that Lori’s appearance changed nothing between them – despite the fact he wasn’t sure himself if that was the truth or not – but Daryl brushed him off.

 

“Wait, Daryl,” Rick tried but the older man ignored him, walking briskly passed him towards the door. Rick turned and followed him, watching hold of his arm as Daryl wrapped his hand around the door handle.

 

“Let go of me, Rick,” Daryl said in a voice little more than a whisper but there was no way Rick could have missed a word.

 

“Daryl, please listen to me –“ The man shot him a look half furious half sad and Rick felt what he was about to say die on his tongue.

 

“She broke your heart before, Rick,” Daryl told him, his blue eyes darting over Rick’s shoulder to Shane still sitting on the sofa, “She’ll do it again. After all, history has a habit of repeating itself.”

 

He pulled his arm free from Rick’s limp grip and pulled open the door roughly. Rick didn’t try again to stop him, he knew it would only make things worse, and maybe end up with him getting a black eye. Watching Daryl leave with his last words echoing through his mind, Rick couldn’t help but feel like he had no choice after all over which path he could take, which future he could pick. Maybe Daryl was right, maybe they were all destined to make the same decisions and mistakes all over again, just like before. Maybe…

 

“ _It doesn’t make any sense_ ,” Shane muttered to himself behind him. _That_ , Rick knew to be true, whichever way he looked at it.

 

He turned around and growled, “I need a fucking drink.” Shane instantly agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, Lori is on the scene!


	10. I remember your face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An awkward conversation with Lori and a unwanted phone call...

The next morning Rick awoke face down on the sofa, crumbled beer cans scattered all around him and a throbbing headache to rival all.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growled as he sat up and blinked hard, looking around blurrily. “Shane?” There was no answer but then Rick recalled dimly a memory of his friend leaving in the early hours of the morning.

 

Groaning, he forced himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment as the whole room spun. He stood on an empty can as he staggered towards the bathroom. He fumbled with the shower, swearing as he did so, till water was gushing then he yanked off his clothes and stepped under the hot spray. Pressing his aching forehead against the cool tiles, Rick struggled to recall what exactly had gone so wrong yesterday that had made him want to drink his bodyweight in alcohol.

 

_Shane, Daryl, Lori!_ Rick felt sick, and only partly because of his hangover. He felt a strange ache in his stomach as he remembered the pretty girl with dark hair standing shyly on his doorstep. He knew it now - that in the past he and Lori had been together, that they had been married, had had children – they had been a _family_! Rick could feel the ghost of a wedding ring around his finger and hear the cries of a new born baby echoing through his body. He tried to concentrate, to recall the face of his children, or any clear memory between him and Lori, but nothing came to him.

 

Instead, he tried to think of Daryl, testing a theory. Immediately images and emotions flooded his mind, memories of them before. _“Little-ass-kicker…”_ Daryl’s voice filled with a tenderness Rick hadn’t heard before, a memory of him cradling a baby in his arms. Rick’s heart ached and a sad smile pulled at his mouth. He knew then that whatever had been between him and Lori hadn’t lasted, something had changed between them and they had lost what they had had when they married. He assumed that was why he was having difficulty remember her, their connection wasn’t as strong, unlike his and Daryl’s.

 

He wondered what it was that had caused his and Lori’s marriage to fall apart; he wondered if he had fallen for Daryl when he had still been with her. Was that why things hadn’t worked out between them? Had he _cheated_ on Lori with Daryl? He felt sick again, he hoped that hadn’t been the case, he didn’t want to be _that_ guy.

 

Rick had just got out of the shower, dried himself, put on clean clothes and poured himself a large mug of coffee when there came a knock at his front door. Opening the door, Rick found Lori hovering there, this time wearing black skinny jeans and a red V-neck sweater that hugged her curves. Rick swallowed hard, despite the conclusions he had drawn in the shower there was no denying his attraction towards her.

 

“Hello, Rick,” Lori said, smiling warmly at him, though he could tell she hadn’t slept much last night, her skin didn’t have the glow it had yesterday and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

 

“Lori,” he hesitated for a second, his mind flashing momentarily to Daryl and that he should have tried calling him already, “come in.”

 

He stepped aside and shut the door behind her. He got a whiff of her perfume as she passed him. He could suddenly see the bottle in his minds-eye and realised he had smelt it before, that it was Lori’s favourite because _he_ had bought it for her before...

 

Lori cast an eye over the mess in Rick’s living room, he hadn’t had a chance to pick up the empty cans yet, he wished he had.

 

“Good night was it?” She asked him knowingly. Rick blushed and quickly darted passed her and swept the cans off the sofa, gesturing for her to take a seat.

 

“Yeah, sorry, me and my friend kind of got a little carried away. Would you like something to drink?”

 

“Coffee, please.”

 

Rick hurried to get her a cup, pausing in the kitchen to check his phone, no messages from Daryl. His thumb hovered over his name, he longed to call him, to hear his voice…

 

Returning to Lori, he sat down awkwardly on the opposite end of the sofa, for some reason something stopped him from sitting any closer.

 

“Thank you,” Lori said as she took the coffee from Rick and took a sip, “you didn’t put sugar in it.”

 

“Oh sorry,” Rick blurted, reaching out to take the cup back, “I should of asked, I just –“

 

“- No, I don’t take sugar, and you put just the right of milk in it, it’s just as I like it.”

 

Rick realised with a twist in his stomach that he had known that subconsciously, he had _remembered_ it. He licked his lips and forced himself to relax.

 

“I…don’t really know how to begin,” Lori said in a nervous voice, tapping her fingernail against the porcelain, “I don’t understand how but…”

 

“You feel like you know me and that we have met before.”

 

Lori nodded, looking both unnerved and relieved. “You have the same feeling?”

 

“Yes,” Rick said then hesitated, wondering how much to say, “But it’s more than just a feeling - for me anyway.”

 

Lori frowned, “How do you mean?”

 

_She hasn’t had any flashbacks_ , Rick thought surprised, _why not?_

 

“When did you first get these feelings of…familiarity?” He wasn’t quite sure how else to put it.

 

Lori didn’t answer immediately, she took a couple of sips of her coffee then said slowly, “A couple of days ago. At first it was kind of just…an _itch_ in the back of my head, a nagging feeling that something was _missing_. Then I started having dreams about a guy – a cop I think - with blue eyes and dark hair…it was all really confusing and disjointed, jumbled, most just blurred colours and noises…but your face,” a blush crept across her cheeks, “that was always clear.”

 

Feeling uncomfortable, Rick swallowed hard and asked, “How did you find where I lived?”

 

“I…don’t know. I was in a cab last night heading home, there was an accident on the normal route so the driver used your road as a cut-through to avoid it. When we turned onto the road I just felt this… _pull_ and I had to get out. The moment my feet touched the sidewalk I knew that you were close. I was so confused, afraid but also…excited. I followed the pull in my chest and it led me to your door, then I knocked and, well, you know the rest.”

 

It was weird, Rick believed in a past life he had been living in a world ruled by flesh-eating corpses, but what Lori had just described sounded more insane to him than that.

 

“That…is different to what I’ve experienced.” _What else could he say?_ Lori raised her eyebrows at him in question, Rick had to elaborate. “I’ve had these memories, more flashbacks really –“

 

“-Any about me?”

 

Rick shifted in his seat, “I find it hard to recall them after they happened.” _Why did he lie?_ He wasn’t sure but he knew he didn’t want to tell Lori about his – very personal – memories of Daryl.

 

His phone suddenly buzzed across the table and an unknown number shone on the screen.

 

“Sorry,” Rick said quickly, picking the phone up, “Do you mind?” Lori shook her head, though she looked like she did mind.

 

Rick accepted the call and lifted the mobile to his ear, “Hello?”

 

“Rick Grimes?” Said an unfamiliar woman’s voice.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you know a Mr Daryl Dixon?” Rick’s heart dropped, he stood up and hurried into the kitchen, “Yes, I – I do. Is he alright?”

 

“Mr Dixon was in an accident, he’s in a stable but critical condition. Your number was listed in his phone as his emergency contact.”

 

_What?_ Rick was stunned, but he quickly pushed that to the back of his mind for later, that wasn’t important right now. Daryl needed him.

 

“I’m on my way, which hospital?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger as I doubt I'll update again before Christmas :/ This story is drawing to a close now (just to let you know). Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 
> 
> Why not check out my other Rickyl stories whilst you're waiting for the next chapter ;)
> 
> Any comments or kudos are lovingly received, see you again soon!


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